Author Archives: gopallahiri

About gopallahiri

Gopal Lahiri, a bilingual poet from India, has been writing poetry for more than twenty years. He has had five poetry collections in Bengali (mother tongue) and five collections in English. His poems appeared in print and electronic publications worldwide. He is a regular contributor of poems in several poetry web sites and magazines.

Autumn Sky

Autumn Sky

Trees birds stones
Fall wind Winnowing hair,
Tumbles, the leaves
Bare the tree; free to fly.

Wafting the scent
of dew soaked leaves.

In search of depth
Inhaling the morning mist.
The Sun cannot flex muscle
In autumn sky.

Colours all around
Red orange yellow!

Seedless earth in its absence
Searching the lost wings,
Mine from you, yours
Buried in silence
To bring back freedom .

So many ways to move up
Your whisper fading away
In the night of shadows
Beauty almost like death.

Wordless

Wordless

Sometimes I hear footsteps, sometimes not
you pull the curtain,
we invite vanity, not love.

when words chose you, not me
a meaningless divide,
I want to escape

baritones in wordless conversations
the truth is buried,
how do I tell you?

cloudless evening holds promise
wooing our skin,
you end up with a spherical smile.

what about missing the raspberries?
sugarless mouth
insulates me from your sweet tongue.

@gopallahiri

Azimuth

Azimuth

The grey sparrows fly straight down
the muddy bank
into the water bodies. Carry the burden
The evening sun dipped at its lowest
Azimuth and drift,
Feel liberated and freer
Over the skyscrapers behind the City Park.

There are times when we listen to
Someone else,
as if the arteries speak gently in whispers
about the abandoned children,
as if they have learned something
from the orange splashed skies.

When I walk out, the sun slid away
The evening has no depth or height,
Surrender to red lights and sirens,
The blank eyes of the night
surveying the houses and streets
bring only scream and savage laughter.
……………………………………………………………………………………

Crossing

This morning I hear the bells and whistles
Away from the roads and streets
The fair weather is only peeling clouds,

Of the beginnings and endings.

Not many footprints are there on the dirty sand
Near beach shacks, near lampposts,
Horse carriages are as if invisible in a haze,

Where do they end?

Corn seller alone lost in somnolence of the tall breakers
On the wave splashed seafront, underneath the
Insects are breeding without notice,
Like there is no time to take rest.
Another night of abuse and invective,
Slowly breaks a not so opaque allusion
And there is often a sense of struggle

Of its own against the tyranny of life.

Crossing the sleepless night
An old lady smiles at the rising sun,
Inside her lies the fractured mind,

Wrinkle on her face deepened, elongated.

Foams surf the wombs, unreal the crest and trough
In all its radiance and trappings,
All muted murmurs sail through the high tides,

Juhu beach holds me now with her piercing blue eyes.

@gopallahiri

A half-remembered night

A half-remembered night

Waving glow sticks, a field of stars, sophomoric,

Focused up there in the sky,

The thick clouds slammed on us, light dimmed,

Shock and then a sense of creeping dread,

Amid a collection of strangers,

Air snakes through narrow lanes, teenagers swear and laugh,

But down here with us all,

Turning a circle, then another in a dance form,

To commemorate totality, the folks in fancy dress

Posing clowns yet lost and alone,

as the world rolled in yet another nuclear test.

Waiting for a real, life changing magic

Against the oncoming darkness.

Cold Fire

Cold Fire
When night falls, the street light comes on in the hovel
Sipping pure cold fire
Grandpa’s torn coat button shines on the wall
Crack open the memories.
Water stops flowing in the municipal tap
Holding the roof in rain, the brick and stone,
Monsoon puddles go long into the winter
In this filthy muddy lane.

Shivers and lies still Children are there,
Explore the Street miracle, a gallant kingfisher
in flight looking effortless.
,……….,….,,,,,,,…..,,….,,,,,,….,,,..

Skyline

In a hyperbolic move

The black bird flares up

With the flash of wings

Falling, turning away

Makes her own path,

Let it happen like a

Pause on a wooded trail

Or be soothed by river water,

Every figure inhales

Cold intake air,

Embraces the blue sky

Flying to reach Manhattan skyline,

Time to look inside

A wavering pulse closing off,

The emptiness gone,

I wish beneath the black skin

The knives and weapons

Turn into cherry flowers

My sin

Sitting on the foothill

The tiny bird lost its vowel
In the debris tumbling down,

Sings in my ear the low
Sound ringing inside the conch shell,

The Mother Earth looses her arms
In the saw blade
Drawn in the sharp edged clouds.

The trees so tall
Dark Night fails to show her silver teeth.

All those stars melt in the sky, above, The moon warns in turn,

I can not erase my sin either.

Autumn Sky

Trees birds stones
Fall wind Winnowing hair
Tumbles, the leaves
Bare the tree; free to fly.

Wafting the scent
of dew soaked leaves.

In search of depth
Inhaling the morning mist.
The Sun cannot flex muscle
In autumn sky.

Colours all around
Red orange yellow

Seedless earth in its absence
Searching the lost wings
Mine from you, yours
Buried in silence
To bring back freedom .

So many ways to move up
Your whisper fading away
In the night of shadows
Beauty almost like death.

…………,..,……………..,…,……..